


Come with me if you want to live

by whichstiel



Series: Season 13 Codas [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, M/M, Post-Episode: s13e18 Bring 'em Back Alive, bring em back alive, episode coda, spn 13x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: A canon-divergent story where Dean tells Charlie, “Come with me if you want to live,” as he cuts her free from the execution post.





	Come with me if you want to live

**I.**

Blood blossoms from the vicinity of Charlie’s ribs. Dean watches it spray across the snow in slow motion, the color brighter than her hair against the wintry landscape. He barely catches a glimpse of the angels down the road about to rain holy hell on them. Behind him, the rift shivers. So he doesn’t think. Instead, he tangles his hand in Charlie’s collar and shouts at Ketch, not even bothering to look around for him. “We’re leaving!” It’s both command and plea and Ketch smoothly fires at the angels and loops his other arm under Charlie’s sagging left side. Together, they drag her through the rift just before it shudders shut behind them.

Dean ends up kneeling on the cold floor of the bunker, a pebble digging into the soft pit of his knee and his breath harsh in his ears. Pain is like a living thing in his shoulder, howling with rage from the still blackened wound. He whips his head around. “Charlie?” he barks.

Charlie’s collapsed into a quivering tent of misery on the floor beside him. Ketch grips her by the arm still, kneeling gracefully beside her as though he took the time to arrange himself in an heroic pose. When he catches Dean’s eye, his hand drops away and he shuffles backwards, fingers twitching towards the ceiling in a mockery of surrender. Charlie pushes herself up from the floor with a grunt and rocks backwards. Her face is ashen and twisted in disgust. “There were only four of them,” she spits. “We could’ve taken them.”

“Charlie, you’re hurt.” Dean reaches for her, desperate to see to the wound that’s dying her clothing crimson. His hand shakes and he grips it into a fist. “Let me—”

And then Sam is there with wide eyes, his face open in disbelief. “Charlie?” he gasps with such obvious shock and affection that it stills her for a moment. Sam gulps and holds out a tentative hand. After a long frozen moment Charlie leans back on her elbow and allows Sam access to her wound. Her eyes drift to Dean and then look up at the ceiling. Her jaw forms a square, hard and absolute.

 

**II.**

His arms are crossed, hands digging into his elbows. When Castiel walks out of Charlie’s room, Dean whirls towards him. “How is she?” he asks quickly.

Castiel raises one eyebrow. “She will recover,” he says. “Just as you are.” He lifts one hand to indicate Dean’s shoulder, which Castiel has been healing in small increments throughout the day. Cocking two fingers at Dean, Castiel leans towards him and says in low, confiding tones, “Her damage is more substantial of course. However, Ketch’s antidote seems…effective. In a week or so--”

“A week?!” Charlie’s outraged exclamation tears into the hallway and Dean winces. He makes a face at Castiel, painting regret over his features before he heads into the room. But seeing Charlie lying in one of the bunker’s spare beds, a clean shirt pulled over her and warm blankets piled around her, he can’t bring himself to feel sorry. She glares at Dean.

“Look, it’s only a week. It’ll probably take us a few days to track down Gabriel and then we can get you back, okay?”

“I told you I was staying,” she says through gritted teeth, pushing herself up.

“You’re gonna tear it open again if you do that,” Dean says roughly. He rushes forward and guides her with gentle hands back against the pillows.

Charlie relaxes against them with something like a resigned sigh. She skims her fingers above her wound as though trying to soothe it, her teeth grinding. “That angel. How can you trust it?”

“ _He_ ,” Dean replies with careful precision, “is one of only two people I fully trust in this entire goddamn universe. And you should be damn grateful you didn’t manage to kill him this morning.”

Charlie smiles at last and there’s enough of an impish shadow to it that Dean’s heart skips in his chest. It’s like seeing _her_ again, if only for a moment. “Hand was shaking too much. Guess I’d better get some rest after all or I’ll blow my kill count all to hell.” Her lips quirk. “Gotta get the high score, right?”

Though she all but murmurs the last line, Dean can’t help the laugh the erupts from him. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d know video games in your world.”

“We weren’t always living in the end times.” Charlie looks away, towards the opposite wall. She squints as though peering at a scene set at a great distance. “Things were good once.”

“Yeah,” he agrees uselessly. “Seems like a real shitty situation you got going over there.” The room falls silent for long enough that Dean grows restless, fingers working in and out of fists. “Well, I—”

“Hey,” Charlie says suddenly, tilting her pixie chin towards Dean. “When you cut me loose you said ‘Come with me if you want to live.’” Heat coils around his ears and he’s just about to apologize when Charlie says, “Terminator.”

“Sorry?”

“That’s a line from the Terminator. It’s a movie.”

“Yeah, I know it’s a movie,” he says in knee-jerk indignant tones.

A smile tugs at her mouth and he answers it with a tenative grin of his own. “So you got Terminator in your world. You like movies?”

Charlie answers with a shrug so practiced and casual that Dean can read desperation screaming out of it. So he snaps his fingers and then jerks his thumb towards the door. “I’m gonna go grab something. Okay? Be right back.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Dean rushes out of her room and down to his. He grabs his laptop and shoves it under his armpit, then heads for his recently christened and somewhat dismantled entertainment room where he grabs two hefty disc cases. When he returns to Charlie’s room he holds them up triumphantly. “How about this?” he says. When Charlie can only give him a slighly blank look of puzzlement he hurries to her bedside and hands her the two cases.

“I’ve seen these,” she says, holding up the premium collection of Lord of the Rings. Longing oozes around her forced nonchalance. Her casual air disappears entirely when she holds up the other, a special edition collection of The Hobbit. “But I haven’t—”

“Figured these didn’t get made before your world went ass over teakettle so…” Dean shrugged. “Something to watch while you heal.”

“Dean, I—” Charlie’s widened eyes remind him achingly of the girl he once sent away from the bunker. She swallows. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d—” He corrects himself awkwardly. “I thought you might—”

“Thanks,” she says quietly, then sighs. “Wanna watch with me?”

 

**III.**

“In this allegory, the elves are the angelic host? It’s a weak connection.”

“Cas,” Dean replies flatly, glaring at Castiel who in turn is scowling at Sam’s TV centered at the foot of Charlie’s bed.

“They’re remarkably depowered, first of all,” Castiel continues.

Charlie snorts and throws a punch across Dean, barely glancing her knuckles against Castiel’s bicep. Dean rolls his eyes but as he looks between them he notices the twist of a smile on Charlie’s lips and a lightness in Castiel’s eyes. Across the room Sam looks up briefly from his laptop and raises an eyebrow at Dean as if to say, “It’s working out fine. Don’t fuck it up.”

Dean stays quiet and lets the banter roll around him, letting himself feel some small measure of joy at being able to give Charlie - _any_ Charlie - something good.

 

**IV.**

Castiel finds him in the library, bent over a book Sam ordered online called “The Quantum Angel: seeking the universal truths beyond our world.”

“She’s doing much better,” Castiel announces without preamble, “and will be strong enough to pass through to her own world once we locate Gabriel.”

“Great,” Dean says shortly, and scrubs his hands through his hair.

“Yes,” Castiel says quietly.

It’s this quiet that causes Dean to crack. “How can I convince her?” He looks up and meets Castiel’s compassionate gaze. “She could have a life here - a good life. We could get her set up somewhere far from—” The words die on his lips. Castiel’s face is drawn into mournful lines.

“She is as drawn to her own home as you are to yours, I expect. And loyal as ever, to those she calls friends.” Castiel crosses the room as Dean feels his face twist into almost concealed agony. “Believe me,” he says, clasping Dean’s shoulder and sliding into the seat beside him. “She will take this respite with her and fight with fresh vigor. If you and your brother defeated the archangels, who’s to say she doesn’t have a chance as well.”

“Always was smarter than me,” Dean mumbles. He stares at his hand splayed across the book on the table. “But I still want her here. I know it’s selfish but I just…”

“I know.”

Dean sighs. “What convinced you to stay down on Earth with us?”

“Sorry?” Castiel frowns at him, perplexed.

“Why did you decide to stay here, and not go back to your home?”

Castiel simply looked at Dean for a long moment. When he looked away again, it was with a small smile on his face, like a secret lay just inside his lips. “I choose to stay where I am wanted. Where I can make a difference. Where I can be with—” He lower lip falls and then rises again. “My friends,” he finally says.

A thousand arguments rise in Dean - both for and against settling in at the bunker. He could send Castiel away like he wants to send Charlie away. Send him somewhere safe far away from the Winchesters’ toxic lives. But he knows he won’t; he can’t. Dean sighs and settles his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Cas.” He smiles at Castiel and his fingers slip down his arm to the crook of his elbow where they linger. He doesn’t want to let go. Not ever.

But he does. His hand slips away and Dean turns slowly back to his book, shifting in his chair so his leg splays out and brushes against Castiel’s knee, warm and familiar. Castiel stays beside him, silent and steady.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man what a busy month! Here, have a coda at last :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
